


promise me a place

by coricomile



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 12:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8668306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: They keep both couches.





	

They keep both couches. 

The one that had lived in Patrick's apartment goes in the living room underneath the bay windows. It's a little cleaner, the fabric still mostly white even if it's got a few discolored spots on it from years of spilled beer and dropped food. Its cushions aren't quite as dented, either, still mostly in the same shape he'd bought them in. 

Jonny's goes into the coach house. It's got some weird stains that never cleaned out, a few green drops of smoothie and a few bleach stains from their bad attempts at cleaning it when they'd been barely old enough to even own their own places. Jonny always hosted the parties, always had the full house. For the last few years, Patrick got more used to waking up to the beige walls of Jonny's condo than the dark walls of his own place. 

"We should switch them," Jonny says, mouth twisted up to the side as he looks around the coach house. It's almost like a cottage, the floor plan alarmingly simple and the walls sparsely decorated. When their families come to visit, it'll be theirs. Patrick's already promised Jessica a week in March. He's so excited about it that he's already scheduled a flat of her stupid sparkling water to be delivered a week before she shows up, never mind that it's months away. 

"What?" Patrick asks. "No way. The movers are gone and I'm not dragging that shit back into the house."

"We fucked on that," Jonny says, like Patrick could forget. "We fucked on that a lot." Patrick grins and wiggles his eyebrows. Jonny rolls his eyes. 

Their first time had been on Jonny's couch. They'd barely been old enough to drink, just kids who had been given too much too soon. Patrick had been drunk and Jonny had been heartbroken and it had just seemed easy, natural, for Patrick to lean over and kiss him. It hadn't been nice. Neither one of them knew what to do with their hands or how to jerk someone else off or what was too gay to even attempt. After, Jonny had kicked him out. They fought about it like they fought about everything else, sharp and vicious and too hard. 

They've come a long way since then. 

"Wanna do it again for old time's sake?" Patrick asks. He tucks his fingers into the waistband Jonny's shorts, tugging until Jonny takes a step back. 

They both smell like sweat and dust, but Patrick still presses his face into Jonny's neck anyway. They're going to have to air the place out and get the maid service in sooner rather than later, but right now he mostly just wants to roll around in the knowledge that he and Jonny are living together for real now. Both of their names are on the truly ridiculous amount of paperwork and their things are all jumbled up together in boxes that are grouped roughly by room and this is it. 

This is really it. 

"Hey," Patrick says. His lips catch the sweaty skin just beside Jonny's Adam's apple. "We're here."

"Yeah," Jonny says, because he's always been able to pick up on the stuff Patrick doesn't say. Jonny curls his arms around Patrick's back, pulling him in closer. Patrick kisses Jonny's throat again because it's there and he's got the squishy, needy urge to be as close to Jonny as possible. 

He's loved Jonny since he was eighteen. Nothing about that has changed, but the house is something that screams permanence in a way nothing else has before. He knows Jonny's not going anywhere, but this is a physical reminder. 

"Come on," Jonny says. He walks backwards until he reaches the couch. He sits and pulls Patrick down with him, his hands coming up to rest on Patrick's hips. Patrick scoots in until he can rest his ass on Jonny's knees, his own hands curling over the back of the couch like they've done a hundred times before. 

Patrick leans down to kiss him, feeling just a little weak. They're not saying anything to anyone that doesn't matter- the team knows, their families know- but eventually it'll get out that they're living together. Eventually people will know. It's a terrifying thought, but Patrick's almost thirty and he's given his whole life to hockey, given half of it to Chicago. He deserves this. He deserves to be happy, and so does Jonny. 

He was just joking about fucking on the couch, but Jonny's warm and solid under him and one of his hands is stroking a soft, steady circle over the small of Patrick's back. They've got too many rooms to christen in the main house, but Patrick's pretty happy here. They don't have anywhere to be but here. 

Patrick ducks his head and kisses the hinge of Jonny jaw. He doesn't want to look up right now, doesn't want to get his feelings all over everything. He's always been made fun of for being too emotional, been called a girl and a fag and worse. But Jonny knows anyway. Jonny, who has teased him about everything from his faceoffs to his morning breath, has never given him shit for feeling too much, too strong. 

It's easy to push his hand between the waistband of Jonny's shorts and the warm plane of his stomach, easy to wrap a hand around his half-hard dick. Patrick mouths at the spot just behind Jonny's ear, shifting up enough to push his own hips up against the back of his hand. Jonny curls an arm around his waist and keeps him steady, tipping his head against the back of the couch. His hairline is receding and he's got lines around his eyes from laughing too much and Patrick's chest aches with how much he loves this. 

One day, he's not going to be as fast. One day, his wrists won't respond the way they do now, his body won't be as controlled as he needs it to be. One day, he and Jonny will be past their prime and someone new will come along and push them out of the spotlight. He knows this, knows that his best years are probably already behind him, and for this brief shining moment, he doesn't care. Hockey is his life, is everything he's worked for, but one day it'll be gone. Jonny, though. Jonny's going to be there for everything, for better and worse. He's going to be there for injuries and losses. He's going to be there for the days Patrick gets hat tricks and for the endless stretches of times that he doesn't score a single point. He's going to be there when Patrick eventually throws in the towel and leaves the Blackhawks behind him. 

Jonny sucks in a sharp breath when Patrick presses the flat of his thumb against the slit of his cock. Patrick kisses the corner of his mouth and grinds down against him. Jonny's hands are so big against his hips, his fingers flexing and tugging as Patrick jerks him off. Part of Patrick wants to strip out of his clothes and find lube, wants to get Jonny inside him just to feel him, but the rest of him is happy with this. Jonny's making stupid faces and even stupider noises, his head tipped back and his Adam's apple jumping. Patrick kisses the arch of it, his lips catching on the stubble under Jonny's jaw. 

"Fuck," Jonny mumbles. Patrick can feel the vibrations of his voice against his lips. He jerks Jonny a little faster, catches the soft give of his foreskin in his palm and tugs it down. He's been doing this for so many years he could probably get Jonny off in his sleep. It's weird and it should be boring, but-

But the quiet, choked off groan Jonny lets out as he raises his hips against Patrick's is still the best thing Patrick's ever heard. His hands tighten around Patrick's hips, pulling him closer, even though there's already barely any room between them. Patrick presses his face to the warm cradle of Jonny's shoulder, licks the skin there. He can feel the rapid beat of Jonny's heart against his chest, can feel how tight Jonny's muscles are clenching as he gets close. 

"Let it go, babe," he mumbles, closing his teeth on Jonny's neck. He laughs when Jonny clamps his arm around his back and yanks him in, thrusting up against him in sharp, rhythmless strokes. "There you go. Come on."

Jonny swears when he comes, back arching sharply enough that Patrick has to scramble to keep his balance. He gives Jonny's cock one more gentle squeeze, grinning when Jonny groans. He wiggles his hand free and wipes it off on the arm of the couch. He always forgets how messy sex is. He shifts on Jonny lap, pushing his cock against Jonny's stomach. Probably he should have got off first. Jonny's totally useless as soon as he shoots. 

"At least kiss me, asshole," Patrick says as he rubs himself off. Jonny laughs and curls a hand around Patrick's neck, dragging him in for a lazy, wet kiss. It's not particularly good- Patrick's breathing too hard and Jonny's mouth is mostly slack- but it feels intimate and close and Patrick needs it. He shoves his hand down his shorts and tugs at his balls, drags the head of his cock over Jonny's stomach. 

When he comes, it's like taking a deep breath in. The tension falls away from his shoulders and only Jonny's arm around his waist keeps him from sliding onto the floor. His shorts are gross, jizz gluing them to his pubes and his thighs, and his hand is unpleasantly sticky, but he's really fucking comfortable and the couch is just big enough for them to nap on. It's been a long day. They deserve a nap. 

"We really do have to switch them," Jonny says into Patrick's hair. Patrick rabbit punches him in the chest. 

"Fuck you, I'm not moving shit," he says. Jonny laughs. It bounces off the empty walls, warm and fond. 

They're going to have so many good years here. Patrick knows it.


End file.
